Final Dusk
by Laid Bare
Summary: Esme is dead and the Cullen's must live on without her. But, for Carlisle, life just doesn't seem real. Is love possible? R&R  Langauge and mature scenes
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One – Prologue

"_There's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest... your kisses still linger and your whispers softly echo... It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me."_

_-Anonymous _

_Two Years ago_

The pale light of the moon spilled through the large, carnivorous room of the Volturi, bathing the veined white marble, a small effort to ward away the fighting shadows that loomed within the corners that would bleed closer, should you only look away for the moment. Figures stood waiting at the wings, all eyes watching with expectance to the three figures that imposed themselves on the dais. Their pale, hard-etched marble faces bearing down, eyes a scarlet that glowed with their own power. The tallest of the three, an ebony-haired man with sharp planes that made of his face, spoke his voice whispery yet seemed to fill the room.

"I truly regret this, Carlisle." Aro sighed, a voice filled with genuine emotion, though underneath lay a hard edge, like skin covering steel. His hand twitched, as if in cat you reach out, imploring for understanding for forgiveness of an act that has yet to be committed. "I wish I did not have to do it." The final words stirred another figure, one that faced the trio, one that was surrounded by as mask of pain in the form of a family. Golden eyes looked up; a pale unblemished face was now marred with a pain that spoke of a heart wrenched from its chest. "You don't have to do this Aro," a soft cultured accent that was once long forgotten now laid the burden of being filled with uncontrolled emotion. "Please."

Shaking his head, Aro smiled, one that looked melancholy though there was a gleam in his red eyes, a sudden flash of fury that gave way instantly to pity. "Oh," he whispered. "But I do." Stepping down from the dais, a black cape billowed beneath and behind him, like tamed black smoke, following Aro as he stopped a distance away from the golden-eyed Carlisle. A figure meant to move, drawing closer to Carlisle, but was stopped by his voice. "No Edward," There was a paused, a silence that hummed expectantly, pressing uncomfortably against the still figures. Finally, Edward moved back, his hand clasping around the small pale one of his wife.

Noting this, Aro cocked his head to the side, like a bird that has gleamed interest. "I see that Renesmee and her wolf mate are not here," a flicker of disappointment crossed the deep wells of Aro's red eyes, though did not thing to alter the abyss. "No matter. Perhaps it is best, no?" Eight pairs of golden eyes glared balefully back at Aro, but the ebony haired man chose to ignore it. "I am sure you know why this must happen. Your family has grown, so much so that it threats our entire existence. It is a threat we can no longer ignore Carlisle. Having said that, I am willing to offer you a choice." At this, Carlisle looked up, eyes shining with a looked that dared not hope.

"Your choice my old friend – choose a member of your family you wish to die." The shine in the golden depths died, though there was no surprise. Behind Carlisle, a small girl shook her head, eyes glazed over, seeing something that wasn't to be seen, her diminutive shoulders held in the arms of a lean blond, one covered in a mass of scars. "So who is it Carlisle?" Aro asked, a brow rising in question. "Who will die for the rest of the Cullen's to survive?" The dark gleam was back, a calculating look that settled over Aro's face, resting on Carlisle Cullen. There was no doubt in his mind that the father of the family would be the one to offer himself, the purest of them all who would have no fear of death, of what awaited him in the next life. Aro watched as Carlisle's lips parted, his answer on his lips.

"I will." A soft melody of a voice caused all eyes to turn, resting on a young woman, whose caramel-brown hair fell in soft waves, framing a pale, motherly face. "Esme," Carlisle breathed the name out, a slow, unfurling of the word, riddled with stressed emotion, of denial. "No." the pair locked eyes and for a moment, the whole world around them seemed to disappear, every voice became white noise, every touch became meaningless, every sight that did not hold the other was not worth seeing. Esme's eyes were wide, imploring her husband to understand, just as much as Carlisle's gaze pleaded with his wife to see reason.

"No," Carlisle said again, this time his burning gaze turning towards Aro. "No. Not Esme. Take me – I will go freely and willingly." But there was a sudden, fearfully curious look in Aro's expression, his glowing red eyes looking at Esme Cullen in a strange new light. Ignoring Carlisle's declaration, Aro studied the mother of the Cullen Clan, a woman whom could be so easily passed off as meek, mild. Her spine steeled under his stare, her chin jutting out as if prepared for a blow, let her eyes remained untouched from what she expected to come. Her eyes remained a golden pool of love, of faith for her family, her husband.

Looking away from Aro, Esme sought out her husband with her eyes, her gaze greedily drinking him in, her hands longing to touch for the last time. "They need you," she said softly, her gaze resting on her children, all of whom looked back at their mother with tears that could never be shed, though their eyes still gleamed with them. "I'm sorry, but it's the only way." Esme began to take a step forward, closer towards Aro, but Carlisle's roar echoed throughout the marble walls. _"No!"_ the force behind the one word shook though the room, stirring amongst the still figures at the wings, a sense of restlessness created.

Desperately, Carlisle turned behind him, searching for a pair of eyes that were only half seeing him. "Alice," he pleaded, a hand outstretched. "Please." But the small inly-black haired girl was already shaking her head, her small frame raking with sobs that she refused to utter. "Carlisle," Esme said gently, a soft coax in her husband's attention, turning his gaze back to her. "I have known for months. It'll be alright, you will move on, find someone else…"

"_No!" _ Rage burned within Carlisle, a fury that had never been dreamed of before. Such anger, such despair had never existed until now. There had never been a time when Carlisle would feel the need to doubt the grace of God, of his mercy at the sight of his wife, willing offering herself to death for the sake of him. "Esme…" unable to find words, Carlisle just stared at his wife, his body slowly breaking, and the sharp sense of loss already taking its toll. The very notion of life without Esme seemed inconceivable, yet still, he could see it. Life would be a welling pit of nothingness, of meaningless smiles of touches that paled in comparison to hers. The thought of never hearing her voice again, of never holding her, _loving_ her…

"Goodbye, my love." She whispered, offering the smallest of smiles, one that broke Carlisle's stone heart. "Forgive me." Carlisle moved, his mind already set on saving his wife, of taking her place, but strong hands stopped him, trapping him. Grey hooded Henchmen, with corded muscles forced Carlisle's arms to his sides, preventing him from taking another step. In utter despair, Carlisle watched helplessly as Aro closed the distance between himself and Esme, his cold, pale hands cupping her cheeks as if to kiss, a lover's embrace. A lone sound of utter anguish crawled its way up Carlisle's throat and ripped itself, piercing the silence as he watched Aro's hands close around his wife's throat.


	2. Chapter 1 Lacy: First Day

Chapter Two –Lacy: First Day

_"The girls that are always easy on the eyes are never easy on the heart." _

_-Author Unknown_

_"Shit!" _that one words summed up how my day was going to be – I could tell. I struggled to squeeze into the skin-tight skirt that I had planned to wear, wishing I had tried my outfit on beforehand. Perhaps then, I would have avoided this whole situation. "Kaylee? Where the fuck is my tights?" In the semi-lit bedroom, I could see the notable absence of my sheer black tights, their wrapper discarded carelessly on the floor. The paused that followed only aggravated me more and with jerky, aggressive movements, did I finally manage to get my skirt over.

"I'm wearing them."

My hands stilled, my head snapping up to look at the gaping door that led out of my room. "No you're not." I hissed, glaring at the gaping abyss that had yet to frame my sister. "I mean it Kaylee," I warned when she had yet to make an appearance. "You can't keep staying at my place if you're going to nick all my stuff." Distractedly, I fiddled with one of my blouse buttons, whist making my way towards the tiny, box-sized kitchen. I was greeted by the sight of my younger sister, Kaylee, leaning against the worktop, one hand balancing a bowl of sugar-laced cereal, her spoon paused mid-way to her gaping mouth.

"What?" I demanded defensively, when it became apparent that it wasn't my furious look that had somehow managed to prevent the fifteen year old from eating. Her cornflower blue eyes raked over my attire, making me tug self-consciously at my skirt. "You're really going to wear _that_?" She asked, her face twisting in distaste. "Yes," I snapped, though I suddenly didn't feel as sure of myself. Maybe the leopard print blouse was a bit much? The skirt too tight? "Well," I huffed; brushing past her to start the process of making my morning coffee. "I would look better if I had my tights." Switching on the kettle, I turned to Kaylee. "What happened to your tights?"

Chewing around a mouthful of cornflakes, Kaylee answered "At Mum's." Ire sparked, but I did my best to busy my hands with measuring out a couple of spoonful's of instant coffee and sugar. "I've told you this before – you can't just use all my stuff. Don't you have socks or something?" my fingers drummed impatiently against the worktop, eyeing the kettle critically, chewing against the inside of my cheek to hold back another curse that was just itching to get out. Kaylee gave an audible swallow, her spoon clattering against the bowel, an announcement to say she was finished. "I haven't shaved my legs."

"Either have I!" as if you prove my point, I raised one leg, almost proudly displaying my lack of enthusiasm for razors. "And besides," I added, when I could see she was yet to be convinced. "I have dark hair – you're blonde, mine's more noticeable." The kettle began to whistle, steam rising out from the funnel. "Kaylee, don't mess about. Today's important. I _need_ this job." I watched as my younger sister glared, blue eyes heated as she dropped her bowl forcefully into the sink. If I didn't know our mother, I would believe that it would be Kaylee causing all the problems at home. But then, Kaylee and Mother Dearest were two peas that had the misfortune to share a pod.

Giving an undignified snort, Kaylee rolled her eyes. "Please. Like you need to impress anyone. You're working at some poxy school for some stuck –up kids that wipe their asses with fifty-pound notes." If she saw my reproachful look, Kaylee chose to ignore it. I wanted to argue – really I did – but I couldn't. It was true; I was feeding an education to the elite teenagers of London, most probably with a silver spoon. I didn't like it, my working-class morals made it so, but I needed the job and the pay was beyond what I could imagine. They say a private education is better – for the teacher's bank balance anyway.

"I need this job," I repeated, like a mantra. I just visualised the cheque that would be clearing in my bank account. Kaylee didn't look convinced, but she let the matter drop, which, coming from her, was a sign of approval. I left her in the kitchen to switch on the computer that was a little too old for my liking. As the monitor slowly hummed to life, I had a chance to fiddle with my long dark tresses in the blank screen, the tick black waves need a cut and I made a mental note to book an appointment with the hair dressers the moment my money cleared in my bank.

Once the computer was finally ready for use, I checked my lesson plans, making sure they were all saved on my memory-stick. If I remember my own school years, the first week was always an introductory one. It was a dossing week. When I was absolutely sure that my plans were there, I indulged in having a sneak peek at Facebook. I had a lot of well-wishing from friends, but one stood out from the rest.

_Those who can, do. Those who can't? Go off and become a friggin' English private school teacher_

- _A very wise and ancient proverb _

I stared at the screen, a small smile tugging my lips. Out of all the people in the world, Robyn Carter would know what I was feeling. Girls like us don't go to university, but we both did. Girls from our area don't get a respectful job, but we did. Granted, Robyn was still doing her medical training in St Thomas' Hospital but I had every faith in the fact that she would soon become Dr Robyn Cater. We had been through a lot together, more than I cared to remember and both of us bore the scars of our past.

"Bye!" Kaylee's call brought me out of my retrieve, the heavy boom of the front door closing echoing around the now still flat. I frowned for a moment, my mind trying to surface a thought – a reason – why I needed Kaylee. "Fuck." I swore, realising that my legs were still bare. _That little bitch. _Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my keys, purse and the mammoth size bag that I would now have to be carrying around the halls of Ashbourne Academy, a prestigious secondary and sixth form school for spoilt rich kids that would probably faint at the very notion of actual work. Or maybe I'm letting Kaylee get to me.

I struggled into my heels, a ridiculous six-inch pair which I was perfectly capable of walking in when in the shop, but now they were proving to be much more of a task. In the stupid black satin heels, I made a manic dash out of my flat, consciously aware of the fact that I have yet to shave my legs. Mercifully, there was no one to meet me in the hallway, nor in the lift, but my luck was sure to run out sooner or later.


End file.
